In Love with my Roommate Ch. 02

Part II - Acting Lessons

I woke up alone the next morning. Our shared bed still smelled like Alexa's mix of shampoo and hair product, and I reveled in the scent of my girlfriend. The fact that she was my girlfriend made me smile. Not even a day previous I was confused at my feelings for this woman, due largely to her going through a transition. But the words of my sister were pounding in my head as I giddily recalled our first real sleep together; hearts not parts.

After stretching, I got out of bed and got myself ready for the day. I threw on a nice chemise and a pair of jeans. I knew that Alexa had an early morning class today, and that she would be at the clinic in the East End of town today to start her hormone therapy before coming back later in the evening. I made a mental note to text her to see if she wanted to grab dinner with me.

After showering, I quickly dressed and headed out to my morning theatre lecture. I meandered at a slow pace across the university campus, taking in the sights and sounds of thousands of students going about their business. As I got over towards the arts and theatre faculty, I saw a group of students huddled around a billboard outside the main entrance. Mirlande was among them.

Making my way over, I stepped up beside her.

"How are you doing this morning Mirlande?" I asked.

"Nervous. The auditions were only yesterday and they've already posted the results for who gets to be in La Bastille!"

My mouth opened.

"Did you get a part?" I asked, silently worried that I had made a colossal blunder in talking about gender roles during my audition.

"I don't know" she quickly replied.

"Pierre, I am dreading looking at that board. I need a main role. I told everyone at my Church that I would be getting a main role!"

I made my way over to the front of the gaggle and looked at the supporting roles. A lot of the more talented third- and fourth-year students had only been given supporting roles. It was absolutely astonishing. Then I saw the two top roles, and I went slack-jawed.

If I was worried about my inclusion of gender roles before, I was now almost panicking. Written at the bottom of the audition list were two standout performers.

Pierre Tremblay - Olympe

Mirlande Baptiste - Jean-Luc

I turned to Mirlande, who had yet to look at the board. She stood nearby absentmindedly chewing her fingernails. She looked gorgeous standing there, wearing a cherry red floor length dress with an opal sweater. But her nervousness was evident. I decided to be tactful in breaking the news to her.

"You're never going to believe this Mirlande, but you and I are playing Olympe and Jean-Luc!" I said to her.

The smile that broke out on her face looked like it had the power of a million suns. Just as she was about to jump for joy, I decided to lay it on her.

"The only problem is that I am playing Olympe and you're playing Jean-Luc." I said, expecting to temper her reaction.

It did not have that effect. She still jumped for joy, throwing both her arms around me and wrapping me in an embrace.

"I DID IT! I SCORED A LEAD ROLE!" she yelled, causing a few of the other theatre and music students who had gathered to give her a bit of space - either out of embarrassment for her outburst, or because they were jealous.

"You mean you don't care that you're playing Jean-Luc?" I asked.

"I might have been born to be Olympe, Pierre, but I am going to use whatever they will give me! This might even look even better for getting a major theatre gig, showing that I can do both male and female parts!" she said, her smile never once faltering.

That thought smacked into me like a freight train. This would not only showcase my talent as an actor, able to play the part of a woman, but given that I had given gender as a reason for my wanting to participate, this was something that I should clearly try to own.

I returned Mirlande's hug.

"We're going to great." I said to her as we stood in the courtyard hugging.

"We're not going to be doing much of anything if we don't get to class" she corrected.

And with that, we set off to go to our first theatre class of the day.

The theatre class passed by with me in a daze.

How was I going to play Olympe in a major setting? Sure, men used to play the role of women in Shakespearean times, but that was because England was filled up with incredibly sexist, prudish Christians. I guess I'd have to get pretty comfortable swishing around the stage in a dress.

But there were also two scenes in the play where Olympe and Jean-Luc kiss. First, at the end of Act 1 when he declares that he's in love with her, and again at the end of Act II when they are whisked off in the fairy tale ending.

Deep down, the thought of kissing Mirlande on stage thrilled me. Me doing it in a dress, was actually an alluring thought. Me kissing Mirlande while my girlfriend watched on... that was a much less alluring prospect. Whatever, I had three months to convince Alexa that it was all just a play. However, given the emotions that were currently swirling in my gut, convincing myself might be an even taller order.

Mirlande asked me to eat lunch with her. I sent a quick text to Alexa to wish her luck on her first therapy session, and got a kiss emoji back. It made my heart swell, and definitely send some blood towards my nether regions.

Throughout lunch, Mirlande and I talked about the role and how we were going to prepare. She talked about how she always wore dresses and skirts, and how now she was going to switch to pants to prepare for the role of the swashbuckling revolutionary that would save Paris.

I absently wondered if I should do the same, as I prepared to play a lady of the court of Versailles who falls in love with the upstart warrior. Maybe I should ask Alexa to dress me up? After all, she'd eventually see me walking around on stage with the costume on.

Mirlande talked to me about how she was going to prepare to blow away the audience while I pushed a few fries around my plate. The cafeteria was packed at this time of day, and we were tucked away in a corner of the building that overlooked the canal that led to downtown. Despite it being early autumn, it was chilly and grey outside. I hoped that Alexa was alright.

After lunch, Mirlande had a French literature class, but I was free for the afternoon. We were about ready to split up when she caught me off-guard.

"Why don't you head over to the theatre to see if you can pick up your copy of the script and maybe a costume or two. Take it back to your dorm and try it on. I want my Olympe to be perfect." She said, with the gusto of someone committing themselves to the role.

With that, we bid each other goodbye and promised to catch up on a messenger app later that night.

Deciding that Mirlande was absolutely right, I wandered over to the theatre building. I had only ever been in the building once - to audition - and I used the same entrance. Despite having been in school a week, I was still getting my bearings and it was easy to get lost on the campus.

I walked into the theatre to see it buzzing with students. Evidently, the fashion students were all busy deciding on how to make costumes for the extras and the French soldiers. There was another dozen music students milling about, looking at the scores for the complicated musical accompaniments. I decided to ask one of the fashion students where the costumes were located. I decided to try my luck with a tall, fair-skinned blonde guy who was wearing an aubergine-coloured jacket.

"Uh, excuse me, can you tell me where the costumes are?"

He turned to look at me, and immediately sized me up.

"Sure, if you're one of the extras you can talk to me."

"Oh, no, I have a lead part."

He looked at me again.

"Nah, the lead guy went to a woman this year." He said with an air of both pride and disappointment, as if it was long overdue and it had only *finally* happened.

"Oh, I'm playing Olympe. I found out a few minutes ago."

Suddenly, a grin broke out across his face.

"You're the guy who basically built an audition on LGBTQ issues? You evidently stole the show during the auditions, even if you're going to have really work on your voice projection if you want to keep the role. You're also not tall enough to be Olympe, but at least you have nice hips and broad shoulders."

Backhanded compliment aside, I was absolutely astonished to hear that my audition had made the gossip circle. Although, this was the faculty of fine arts. It was filled with drama nerds, music students and people whose lives revolved around fashion - gossip was basically a part of the genetic code here.

"You're going to want to see professor Benyamina, the super tall Algerian woman over there wearing the orange pantsuit. She's going to be director, and she'll help you find your costume and your script."

I thanked him again and walked away. As I headed towards the woman in orange, I regretted not asking his name. I wanted my first week at university to be an impression, and getting some names in the book would be key.

In any case, I headed towards the professor, who was switching between listening to several students tune their instruments and checking her phone.

She was taller than me, with a clear complexion and olive skin. Her pantsuit was bright orange, and was very trendy. I wasn't hip enough to catch the designer label on the belt or her Chelsea boots, but the whole ensemble screamed that she was a theatre professor. She was speaking in a very thick Maghrebi accent which, coupled with her frizzy brown hair, gave her the impression of someone who took these types of things seriously.

I couldn't remember if I had seen her at the auditions or not. My brain was addled with thoughts of my classes and the amount of reading that I already had piling up, as well as Alexa and her cute bum. I idly wondered how her treatments were going and if I'd see her before dinner tonight.

My reverie was broken when professor Benyamina locked eyes with me, and a bright smile broke out across her face. It immediately answered my question about whether she knew me or not. She must have been at the audition.

"Bonjour, bonjour, bonjour!" she exclaimed loudly, as she tucked her phone into a pocket on her blazer and made her way over to me.

"My Olympe has finally made it over! Welcome Pierre to the theatre room! You must be here to pick up your script!"

She was bright and chirpy, and very, very enthusiastic. I trotted along behind her as she pointed out other students and who their roles would be, telling me every time she mentioned a name that we'd all be best of friends by the end of the semester. I believed her, considering she also mentioned that we'd have two readings a week until the end of first semester with costumes and adjustments, and then four rehearsals a week for the first three weeks of second semester until we had performances for the entire last two months of the year. As I followed this beautiful dynamo around the theatre, I couldn't help but wonder what exactly I had gotten myself into.

"So, yeah. I'm Pierre. It's nice to meet you." I told her, having decided on a polite greeting for my new director.

"Wonderful! You can call me professor Benyamina. If you're talented you can call me Doctor. Lovely to meet you." She said, her energy never wavering and her pace never slowing. I guess we'd not be on first name basis anytime soon.

She led me around the theatre room, pointing out important parts. I had been in a theatre before, and had acted on a stage in the auditorium at my Cégep in Québec, but this was next level. The university had one of the best fine arts programs in the country, and given that it operated in both languages, drew eyes from the major production companies in Québec, Montréal, Toronto and Vancouver on a regular basis.

"So, that's an important thing to remember." She told me as we moved around the backstage, dodging pulleys, levers and spare props.

"The Centre National des Arts is just across the canal, and they always look for breakout actors as well. There is an orchestra at the arts centre as well, and they always look for promising new students studying music here. When you act in one of my pieces, you had best treat it like your future career depends on it. It very well might! You never who will be watching."

I smiled at her. I was very much hoping to get some exposure here, and I'd take all the attention I could get.

We finally arrived at a small room covered in black panels. It was just hidden off stage-right and was where people would change costumes. We both headed inside and looked at all the dresses, hats and shoes lining the walls and many shelves inside the tiny booth.

"Well, here we are. We usually lean towards the classics here, rather than modern and contemporary crap, so you can take your pick of which dress you think Olympe should be wearing. Although, if I was a betting woman - and I absolutely am not - you'd want to go with this longer dress here with the corset in the front. You can add these black shoes here, and this chemise to go underneath, and this bonnet will give you a real aristocratic look. Hm, you're going to need a ribbon on the dress too for it to be authentic. Actually, scratch those shoes, you'll need hose. Wait, do I have hosiery here?"

Lost in her own world, she worked her magic for a few moments, throwing articles of clothing around without rhyme or reason. If there was a system of organization here, it wasn't evident to me. It looked like pure chaos as I watched her arms move her orange pantsuit around in front of me.

Finally, she turned to me and dumped a dress into my arms, with a corset and a few accessories. She also pressed a giant stack of papers into my hands as well that was clearly a copy of our script.

We chatted amicably for a few more moments before some other students came to her looking to pick up their own costumes, scripts, instruments or in one case - to complain about how they were excluded from being a part of the production altogether, even going to far as to question the professor's artistic direction. Seeing the professor's face turn from a bright eyed and energetic ball of creativity into one of absolute ferocity, I quickly announced my departure and walked briskly towards the exit.

It was getting close to dinnertime, and I wanted to wait for Alexa before eating. Thankfully, the cafeteria was open until late in the evening.

This close to dinnertime meant the campus was a nightmare. People were fleeing the downtown office buildings back to their homes, and Laurier Avenue was blocked with traffic, while the passing trains were filled with students coming to campus for evening classes, and men and women leaving their jobs to head home. Thankfully, my dorm was just on the other side of the street.

I stood waiting at the lights carrying a mountain of clothing and papers in my hands. I silently cursed as I wished that I had a spare hand to text Alexa. Or my sister. Being a theatre geek meant that I was naturally talkative. My sister always joked that if you looked up the word "bavard" in the dictionary - the French word for chatterbox - there would be a picture of me beside it. Right now, I wanted to spill my guts to someone over how excited I was.

I almost ran the rest of the way back to my dorm. The minute I was in the door, I kicked off my shoes and threw my clothing onto the bed that I was now sharing with Alexa. Seeing our two single beds pushed together made butterflies appear in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see her.

Smiling, I threw myself into my office chair and rummaged around in my bookbag for my cellphone. Opening a face messaging app, I quickly dialed my sister. It was close to six o'clock, so she should be home, or at least close to it. After a few rings her face appeared on the screen.

"Hey baby bro!" she said. She was walking around her kitchen in a sports bra, clearly having just arrived home from the gym. I knew she always finished her days at the hospital with a workout so that she could sleep at night.

"Hey yourself!" I responded.

"You're grinning like an idiot Pierre. You've got something to spill. God, I have to get you a girlfriend. Maybe then you'll want to always call her instead of me."

"First, you love it that I call you all the time. And secondly, about the girlfriend..."

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! NO WAY! IS IT YOUR ROOMMATE? HAVE YOU KISSED YET?"

I let Stéphanie pepper out questions for a few minutes, knowing that as much as she loved teasing me about wanting to talk and gossip all the time, she was JUST as bad. Maybe worse. Actually, absolutely worse. When she started seeing her current girlfriend, we talked every day for two weeks.

"Okay, so like, a few nights ago we went out clubbing and we kind of kissed then. But it was just an after-club thing. And then last night we had a moment. I asked her out on a date, and well, we never left on the date. We just stayed here and, uh, spent the night together."

"Ohhh. OHHH. You do it yet?"

"Stéphanie Tremblay! A gentleman never kisses and tells!"

She smiled at me over the phone.

"I'm happy for you Pierre. Just be careful. Last time we spoke you weren't quite sure what you were feeling. Have you made any progress on that?"

"Yeah sis, I have. First, thanks for talking to me about it. I've accepted that she is a woman. If she isn't yet in body, she sure is in spirit. I won't pretend that I'm an expert on trans issues, but I want to be there to support her through this. I think... I think there is something deeper there, you feel me?"

"Baby bro, you've got it bad." She said to me, her smile angling her face in a look of deep happiness.

"She's got a political science lecture right now. She had her first hormone therapy this morning too. I'm excited to see her tonight."

"Do you know what her therapy consists of?" my sister asked with a quizzical expression.

"Yeah, she mentioned that she's going to be on estrogen and anti-androgyny drugs or something."

It was actually kind of nice having a doctor in the family. Stéphanie was asking these questions as my sister, but I could see the gears turning in her head at the same time.

"She's going to get boobs, you know." She said to me.

I laughed.

"She told me the same thing last night!" I replied, still laughing at the idea that we were talking about my girlfriend's boobs like this.

"How tall is she? Also, how old is she?" Stéphanie asked me.

"Uh, about 150 centimetres. Maybe 155. She's not very tall for a twenty-year-old."

"Pierre, she's going to get stacked! Like, not huge, but she's be at least a full A-cup by the end of the year. Maybe a B-cup. Hormones and saline injections are no joke."

"SWEET!" I responded, with a mock bro voice.

"No Pierre, it means that you're going to have to be super careful around her. She's going to ACHE in her chest for days, maybe even weeks at a time. There will be swelling and inflammation."

"Oh right, well, if I'm going to support her, I'll just follow whatever her doctor tells her and whatever she tells me."

That last line earned a smile from my sister.

"You're damn right you will! You should give lessons to other men. Just do whatever the woman says when it comes to OUR bodies. What a novel idea!"

We both laughed at the situation. But, as much as I wanted to talk about Alexa, I had more news.

I told her about how I got a part in the big Francophone play that the faculty was putting on. She was ecstatic for me. She was both awed and shocked when I told her that I'd be playing the part of a noblewoman in France during the revolution. I don't think she believed me until I held up the dress behind me as proof.

She promised that she would come up from Montréal soon with her girlfriend and take Alexa and I out on a double date soon. I suggested the following weekend, and seeing Stéphanie motion to someone, I knew that our call was coming to an end. Her girlfriend was with her and they'd obviously want to spend some time together. I bid her goodbye, and we exchanged the obligatory "je t'aime" that marked every call between the members of our family, and then hung up.